


dead people for contacts

by intoxicated_by_our_lies, klismaphilia (orphan_account)



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Codependency, F/F, F/M, Friendship/Love, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rehabilitation, Reminiscing, Self Confidence Issues, Survivor Guilt, Work In Progress, rated T for tears
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 18:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5426690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intoxicated_by_our_lies/pseuds/intoxicated_by_our_lies, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/klismaphilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It still feels real." Survival/aftermath AU with each character.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. survivor's guilt

**Author's Note:**

> Matt and Emily as only survivors.
> 
> Matt was written by Mooncake and Emily was written by Intoxicated.

It’s cold.

That’s the first thing she realizes when she wakes up, pulling her sheets closer to her body and turning onto her stomach while rubbing her legs closer. Emily briefly wondered how cold it had to be in her little dorm room, she doubted that it was just a fucked up air conditioner, if someone had decided to prank her or whatever. They succeeded if they wanted to do so- too tired to get up and try to change the temperature or put on heavier clothes.

Her eyes lightened up in the darkness, blurry and a bit double visioned. She rubbed them tenderly, yawning and tried to think over heavier thoughts to fall back asleep too. For several moments, she thought of the upcoming holidays, seeing her family and friends. The thought made her feel better- and she tried to latch onto the idea. Her eyes close once again-

The sound of her phone vibrating underneath her wake her up, her bloodshot eyes are forced open and she’s awkwardly reaching underneath herself to find where the phone is vibrating against her crotch. The bright screen causes her eyes to sting, but she forces herself to read whatever it says.

Matt’s face is the first thing she notices- an older photo of them together in their halloween costumes so long ago that she wonders if they were even in their sophomore year of highschool. For a single moment, she considers turning her phone off. Why should she even bother looking? He left her to die- so many times.. after everything, he left her when she needed him the most. And he left her. She nearly died- and he… he only cared about himself in the end.

_hey, it’s me._

Her fingers tremble, and she licks her lip. Why did she keep his number in her phone- she was so fucking stupid.. there were so many nights where she was trying to decide whether or not delete and block him.. He never called her- never to apologize or explain himself. Just silence. _Fucking_ silence after so much. Emily wondered if there was ever going to be a time in her life that she was going to feel more betrayed.

_i need to talk to you. im sorry its so late. call me when you get the chance. night._

She chooses not to respond, instead turning her phone off and laying her head down. Her heart twinged and the thoughts of the tower.. the deer things.. fuck- all of it, it returns and she just wants to scream and curse and- she can’t- she couldn’t, not when she felt so weak and helpless again. All she could do was turn over, letting silent sobs escape her throat as the haunting eyes of Ashley, Matt, Sam.. everyone, stared at her from the darkness.

* * *

It started like falling; there was an ache in his chest like he’d been running too fast and had been forced to the ground, knocking the wind out of his lungs with an almost paralyzing sense of fear. He could feel the wind, cold and desolate, his hand fumbling for hold of rock after rock as he kept running, just tracking off further and further into the darkness. There was static; he could hear it in his ears, a faint buzzing underneath the erratic pounding of his chest as he fell and got up and fell and got up and practically _impaled himself-_

__

_Oh God, I don’t want to die- don’t let me, don’t want to fucking die, come on, fuck, Jess, Em, Mike, Josh, Sam-_

He didn’t know if you ever got used to something like this… like the anxiety. He didn’t know when it was that he’d gotten up, pulled himself away, dragging feet down what seemed like a longer hall than usual until he could reach the restroom, swinging the door closed behind him with trembling hands.

Matt didn’t know when the last time he’d felt okay was- before he’d lost the scholarship, before he’d lost his job, before the mountain and the Wendigo and _watching Jess get half her fucking face ripped off in front of him, feeling the heat of flames on his clothes and sparking wires and Emily falling, falling, falling-_

It was too much. It was too much, and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be okay, not when he was sitting on his knees on the floor of some fucking restroom, feeling cold tile against the palms of his dark hands as he retched, violently, vomit spilling out from cracked lips into the basin of the toilet, but it looked more like blood, slick and red and more metallic than acidic… he remembered the feeling of blood too well, remembered falling and waking up and falling and waking up and how unreal it was-

_I can’t do this anymore._

If it wasn’t fear, it was rejection, and if it wasn’t rejection, it was depression, and if it wasn’t depression it was guilt, so overwhelming it made him feel like he was being eaten from the inside, but even the thought of eating made him sick- all he could remember were the wendigo’s sharp fangs and the smell that was so gut wrenching it made him sick just thinking of it…

Everything made him sick. Everything but… but Emily.

He didn’t even know when the last time they’d spoken was- back when he was a jock, fucking popular, had a life, had friends, had the ability to take anything that was thrown at him- be it a football or a history question or a relationship. Hell, he’d barely even spoken to her since… since dawn on that last day. There were the routine visits in the hospital, when he’d slipped out of his room and down to hers, tried to talk to her, to apologize because Emily, _I thought you were dead, I didn’t want to leave you, thought you were gone, fire was everywhere, we were falling, I- fuck, I-I just wanted to live, Em, and you would’ve done the same thing-!_

Which is why Matt isn’t sure what possesses him to finally grab for his phone- he’s barely cleared the bile from his lips, barely bothered to put anything back over his freezing shoulders before he’s searching for it, doesn’t know if she’s still a contact, but she has to be, because everyone’s on there still, and as sick as it makes him to think _I carry around a cell phone that pretty much only has dead people for contacts_ , it’s a reassurance to find the name, staring at him from a white screen in black letters.

Emily.

He wonders if he should even do it; or if he should just tuck his phone back in his pocket, maybe search around for some medicine in the cabinet; he almost feels lucky for not having a roommate at times like these, but he’s too frightened to sleep alone. He always feels… like he’s being watched. Targeted. Hunted. And yeah, while the Matt who survived Mount Washington could’ve easily taken care of himself, the Matt that was having panic attacks so bad he’d been taken out of the dorm in an ambulance certainly couldn't.

He sucks in a breath and starts a new message.

_hey. it's me._

He’s stumbling down the hallway, back to his dorm room, until he can pull himself inside and lock the door and collapse in a heap of limbs on the floor, pressing his back against the door. The shaking in his hands is picking up again, so much that when he tries to text out the next few lines, the phone almost slips from his hands- they’re almost sweaty, cold and clammy from being pressed against the tile in the bathroom. He barely gets out another message before he attempts to start a third, cursing when the mobile slips from his grip and tumbles across the wooden floorboards.

Matt doesn’t say anything; he just sits there, staring at it, for what seemed like ages, a half-typed _i’m out of my fucking mind_ … anxiety is flashing on the screen before it went dark.

He doesn’t go back to sleep.

* * *

Her roommate throws her the dirtiest of looks when she wakes up right before sunrise, the desk lamp shining brightly and the faintest sound of music playing from her computer as Emily is face first into writing an essay that is months away from the due date. It’s filled with errors and sentences that lead nowhere, don’t make sense, and she’s pretty sure her word count is past the maximum amount of words she was allowed to write but she’s barely gotten to what she wanted to talk about. She doesn’t want to end it, because it will force her to think about Matt and his messages..

_I have to keep busy- I have to keep busy. I don’t want to think about it; fuck, fuck, I don’t wanna think about any of this._

__

For a moment, she wonders if her roommate has noticed that she’s crying again. But when she looks back over to where she was, she notices that she’s peacefully sleeping again. Envy is the only thing she can really think of at first. Her eyes feel heavy and her mind feels slower than usual, but she forces herself to stay awake. She glances over to the where her phone laid on the bed, and goes to retrieve it without a second thought.

Should she call him? Would.. would it make her feel better? She swallows whatever bulge she has in her throat, looking down from her phone as she holds side of it long enough for it to turn back on. Pulling open a drawer, she picks out a orange medication container and toys with the thought of opening it. She feels weak for needing them, but fuck.. they help so much and even if she’s weak, it’s better than feeling like she’s going to break apart, piece by piece.

Popping two into her mouth, and swallowing, she looks back down on her phone. No new messages.. but what else was new? She never bothered giving her number out to others, not anymore. Didn’t even delete her old contacts out.. only her mom and a few others had it and they never messaged her. No one cared about her- even if it sounded cynical. They only cared about the corpses of her closest friends.

Not that she blamed them.

Who cares about the two teenagers that survived it all- they cared about the dead youth that “could’ve done so much, in the prime of their lives, all born to do amazing things”.. that’s what the newspapers said at least. The police didn’t even mention them after they interviewed them, they were nothing compared to what happened to her friends. Whatever though, she was happy to get out of the limelight for once and do.. nothing actually. All she did for the last few years was cry herself to sleep, try and think about all the choices she could’ve made.. dwell on the past and pretend that her, the most useless person alive, could’ve been any help.

Her fingers trembled as she clicked on Matt’s face, her breath catching in her throat as it rings.

_“Hello? Em-Emily?”_

She considers hanging up.

* * *

He’s not sure what time it is when he notices the vibrations across the floor, echoing against wood as the dimly lit room casts light on the ringing phone. Matt had been staring at it- listlessly, thoughtlessly, just staring as if in a trance…

He has to rub his eyes, give himself a pinch to try and determine if it’s real- he doesn’t know if he can. Everything is so… so surreal, almost as though he’s been asleep this entire time. He’s never sure if he actually woke up, doesn’t know if he’d actually texted Emily, but- _that doesn’t cancel this out._ It…

It’s _**her.**_

His hands are shaking worse than before, and Matt isn’t sure if it’s from the chill of the room or the panic that’s building in his chest at the thought of Emily talking to him, if it’s because he didn’t get any sleep or because he’d never talked to her after the incident, never wanted to bring things up when it would only make it worse. Because she fucking hated him, and hell, Matt even hated himself. He couldn’t bring himself to look in the mirror, at the once nearly-flawless dark skin and bright eyes that would hold an almost impossibly genuine sense of amiability when he’d looked at someone…

He reached for the phone, fingers scrabbling across the surface until he could press the answer button that was flashing on the screen.

_“Hello? Em-Emily?”_

She doesn’t say anything. He isn’t sure if she’s supposed to, because he doesn’t expect her to, and still isn’t even sure it’s really happening, running a hand through his hair and looking at the photo of her that had popped up on the screen.

And then he’s choking back a sob, an almost agonized voice that’s too high to be considered even somewhat okay, as he says, “ _Em_ ,” again, taking in a deep, shuddering breath as his hands tense up, and he hisses out, _“I’m so… so sorry… I n-needed to… just… fuck… can you… can you say something? I’ve… it’s so… are you there? I keep thinking about it… about when I let you drop and fuck, Em, I’m so sorry, Emily, you have to know I never wanted to.”_

He’s dropping the phone on the floor and letting his shaking hands pull at the fabric of his pants, at his hair, at his wrists as he tilts his head back and bites down on his lip to muffle a scream. It’s only a low, half-pained cry that comes out instead, along with the pressure in his chest, building and building until he’s sure it’s gonna be cardiac arrest, paralysis, because this is where he finally dies, on the phone with Emily and shaking from so much fucking _guilt_.

He coughs, tries to pick up the phone again, as he spits out, “I just… I… Emily, I’m not- not doing well. My… c-can’t sleep, can’t eat, seeing it everywhere, the fucking _sh-shaking_. Are… are you alright? Emily? Please. You have to know… you have to _know_ …”

* * *

Emily couldn’t tell if she was happy he was doing far worse than her, or if the pain that was stabbing her in the heart was sorrow or what, but hearing him sob in the phone, telling her all this.. it made her feel so fucking awful. She felt like crying again, and she resolved to do so once she hung up. Was it wrong of her to only feel more guilty of not being able to know what to say to him? The only thing she thought of was was.. fuck, it was _‘you left me to die..’_

Before she knew it, tears were leaking down her face, and the words escaped her mouth. “Matt- y..you left me to die. Alone. _I nearly fucking died._ I-I was suspended upside down, like a fucking animal waiting to have my throat cut open!”

She’s shouting words that doesn’t really make any sense, sobbing loudly. It feels like time completely stops for a moment, that someone had slowed it down 200%- but she swears she can hear every little moan and breaths Matt takes. “D-do you know how hard it’s been- _not hearing from you for two fucking years, Matthew?_ Y-you’re **_not_** the only person that’s been going through so much shit since.. since- fuck-”

His breathing is loud, almost entirely too audible within the silence on his end as Emily continues to… to go off. But Matt can’t deny she has every right to- more of a right than him, more of a right than anyone. Hell, what has he done for the past two years? She’d been getting her life together- hell, she’d gotten a scholarship to a private university out on the coast, and here he was, stuck in whatever pathetic rut he’d gotten himself trapped in with the fear and the paranoia and the…

_“I know.”_ Came the response, his voice not cracking, although how he managed to keep it steady was unknown to himself. _“Fuck, Em, you think- you think I-I wanted to? I just… I just… I didn’t see any way for you to… to make it… I tried, twice… b-but… fuck. At least you didn’t watch someone get their goddamn face ripped off in front of- fuck, fuck, Emily, I…”_ his throat felt like it was closing up far too quickly, the pounding starting in his chest and trembling spreading through his body until he felt so cold, so attacked it was like dying all over again. _“If it helps… I didn’t want to live. I s-still… I didn’t reply because… fuck, Emily, just. I wanted to, okay? You’re the one goddamn person who means something to me at this point... there were… a few from last year, but… we haven’t talked since… you’re the… the only one. The only one who matters anymore.”_

The phone had dropped from her hand once she had heard this- a sob getting caught in her throat as she lifted her hands to her eyes and wiping her face. It proved futile, her hands shook too much and more tears leaked from her eyes. She could still hear him on the other side of the phone, still saying something that she can't bring herself to pick the phone off the ground.

She wonders how different her life would be if.. of Josh hadn't invited them, and done that stupid fucking prank thing.. how he and all her other friends wouldn't be dead- they'd be going to college, all of them. She'd be liking all of Jess’ post about how much she was going to miss them all, and Emily would be posting pictures of her new college attire and still talking about wanting to become a fashion editor..

Things would be so different, so different it kills her inside to think about. She misses them all too much. Even if all she did during the time was scream at Jess and Mike and… everyone. They all probably hated her, didn't they? She could say the same thing about them really.. she hated them all then, but that didn't mean she really did. She cried for so long after dawn finally came.

Finally managing to compose herself the best she could, she brought the phone up to her ear. “I.. Matthew.. I need.. I need to see you- I'm sorry. Fuck, Matt.. I just need to see you. Please.”

He's surprised at the way her voice comes through- shaky, unsure, almost desperate… he wonders about what had happened after she'd gone back to school, about how fucked up she’d been- as much as him? He couldn't help it- the pain in his chest, seeing blood, everything red or if not just _dark_ , and it's just…

He needs to see her too. More than anyone. If only because he's collapsing from the sheer weight of the memories, because he wishes he’d died and still wants to. He's just… he's lost. Matt couldn't even explain the way his throat went dry and his head ached and his hand clenched around the phone as he finally took a breath.

“I need to see you too, Em. Just… please. When and where? I can't… need to talk, Em.”

She takes in a deep breath, trying so hard to control her already shaky voice. It's barely works, but she feels much better afterwards. “I'm.. I'm on break now.. where are you? I-I can meet you anywhere.”

“Just…” Matt sighed, glancing up to the window, furrowing his brow as he tried to think. “The coffee shop on the corner of Barrow? We could meet there, just… just to talk. If that's good with you.”

“Okay..” she tried to add more to it, but she couldn't force herself to let out any more words.

Her fingers clicked the end call button.

….

He was almost too embarrassed to be sitting in front of her, the aching in his chest turning into an immense pounding, echoing in his ears and threatening to overtake him completely. Emily sat in front of him, her gaze unwavering as she tapped her fingers against the surface of the table. Matt took a deep breath, let it out… “It's been awhile,” he finally says.

The old Matt might have given her a reassuring smile, some words to try and ease the situation. But him, the Matt with such severe anxiety it practically radiated from his bones, could only rest his shaking hand on the table, the other one running through his hair before he steadily met eyes with her.

“I'm not doing so well,” he says finally, a casual grin that looked more like a grimace playing on his thin lips. “Are you holding up? I… I saw that article you put in the paper. It was damn good, Em, I… fuck. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry I haven't- just…” he couldn't keep his head up, opting to look down at the coffee mug on the table as he took a deep breath.

“Is it bad to say that I missed you?”

He looked different, that was the first thing she noticed when she finally gained the courage to look at him. His skin looked so much lighter than before, unhealthy and almost sickly. The previous muscle that clinged and shined off his arms, looked defeated and he looked like he lost too much weight. She couldn't blame him, she looked different since the incident too.. not as bad as him, she liked to tell herself.

“No.. no, I don't think it's a bad thing.” she tried to give him a smile, but in her current state, she doubted it went through as well as she hoped it would. “I.. did too.”

She cupped the cup in her hands, whispering, “How could I not miss you,  Matt?” Biting her lip again, she looked away from him and down at her hands, where the nasty bite still scarred her arms peaked through. “It still feels real, you know?”

Her tone is so soft, she wonders if he can even hear her.

“I'm still looking over my shoulder, think I'd see the wendigo chasing after me and.. I just freeze up. I don't really sleep that much anymore.” Emily reaches over to lay her hand on his. “Have you seen anyone?”

“Seen anyone…?” the young man asked, looking up to her and raising a brow. “Like… to talk about what happened? No… didn't have the money for it. I mean… I was in the hospital for a couple months when the anxiety got… worse. It's like you said… I'm always looking around, paranoid that that _thing_ is going to find me… rip my jaw off like it did to Jess or… or tear my guts out like Sam. It…”

Matt trailed off, the shaking in his hands escalating to the point where it was too hard to hide, impossible to keep under wraps. His fingers scrambled to grasp hold of the edge of the wooden table, nails digging in as he looked up at her. “I never thought I'd survive. Never thought either of us would- not when Sam and Mike…”

He sucked in a breath as the heat in his throat built up, to the point where he thought he was going to choke. His breathing came in spurts, shallow and fast, just like it had when he’d been _running_ … “A-and… you? I… I m-mean…” his voice seemed to catch in his throat, going entirely too raw, too sick for him to continue.

“Em, I can't.” he said, swallowing. “C-can't be here… having… I don't know what to do…”

Emily pinches her lips together, uncomfortable with what he was saying. She didn’t think he would look for someone to talk too.. he wasn’t like her- her parents would’ve sold their house just to make sure she’d see a therapist or whatever they thought she needed. It hurt that Matt couldn’t.. he probably needed it the most, more than her. “I’m.. I’m here for you, Matt.. I hope you know this.. I want to be able to talk to you more.. we’re all that we have now, you know? Sam, Jess, Mike, Chris, Ash.. fuck, Josh too. They’d want us to stay together if anything happened, I would too if I.. didn’t make it.”

She looked back down at her hands, noticing just how clammy they really were now. Wiping them on her pants, she glanced up to see Matt’s glossy eyes, almost completely black and desperately staring at her. “There isn’t a lot to say. I finally managed to publish an article, I got into a university.. it’s been hard, harder than I ever really ever thought it would be. Mom keeps trying to convince me to come home, and take some time off from all of this.. but.. I like to keep busy. It’s harder to have paranoid thoughts about those things trying to kill us..” she laughs awkwardly, desperately trying to lighten the mood. “I miss them so much these days.”

He misses them too- more than he knows what to do with, and hell, he’s missed Emily even more than the rest of them. Knowing that she was out there, living, breathing, doing god knows what without a word from him in years was almost painful… would he have been able to stay in touch after what happened? Would he have… been there for her?

He’d let her fall. Hell, he’d almost _killed_ Em, and if anything created a rift, it was letting your girlfriend fall down a fucking mine shaft. The thought was enough to make a tiny chuckle escape his lips, as he finally says, “I never wanted to lose them, Emily… and I didn’t mean to lose you too. Not when.. when I should’ve done something for you. Hell, they’d never forgive me for any of this- this _bullshit_. I don’t know if I’d forgive me, either.”

He presses his hand atop hers, curls fingers around her palm and just holds it for a few brief seconds… she’s hot, compared to him, almost startlingly so. “It’s okay, Em. I’m… I’m not going to back out again. If you need anything, just…” he sighs, drags in a breath, looks down at where his darker hand is covering her lighter one on the table. “Sometimes I wish I was just… just with them all, you know? Dead. But then… fuck, I can’t leave you alone anymore. I don’t want to lose you again. I just… don’t know if you’re willing to try and… make up for lost time.”

She takes a moment to respond, taking a long sip of her coffee before deciding what she would say. “I-I’d like that.. Matt.”

 ****  
  



	2. unbreakable, no matter what they say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you want me to stay? I can… we can just kinda talk. I know what you've been dreaming about. You keep calling out for Mike…" Sam trailed off with a sigh. "I dream about Josh too…"

The vents in the hospital were more successful at blocking heat than at letting it in; the white walls were as cold as ever, nearly freezing, dimly lit with a dull, fluorescent light that hung from the ceiling. It wasn't… personable. Hell, nobody should have to be stuck in a place like this; it made Sam feel like she was waiting out her last days. Maybe she was- for all she knew, she was going to die here.

They'd said she had PTSD. Severe, perhaps; Sam wasn't sure. All she knew was that she was here, alive and breathing, stuck inside some dingy hospital room, staring up at a cracked ceiling with her hands folded across her stomach. But PTSD didn't matter to her- they could call it what they liked. The only thing that was important anymore was the girl lying in the bed next to her.

Jessica.

In a way, she'd changed too much. The Jessica from before- the strong, confident, go-getter popular girl was barely visible in all the… tragedy. It seemed to radiate from her- like an aura of misfortune. It was insecurity, self-consciousness, vulnerability… she'd been through so much. When the search teams had finally showed up, Sam had been screaming at them- Jess needed medical help, she didn't need to sit through a fucking interview, didn't need to be hounded by reporters, didn't deserve any of that… she deserved rest. She deserved warmth. She deserved security.

And as sick as it was, it seemed like the only one who'd cared enough to give her that was Sam herself.

They'd been talking more; trivial things… magazines, school, Jessica's clothes that her mother would bring by every now and then… but it helped. As little as it was, it was something… an effort nobody else had put in.

She'd heard Jess screaming at night, waking up in fear, panting, struggling from a nightmare- seeing (no, hallucinating) the wendigo, their friends… Mike.

Sam wasn't sure how impactful it had been, losing him, but she'd lost Josh and… she thought they'd had something. Thought they just… needed each other. That he needed her. She was the only one who'd driven to his house, to the hospital, sat with him through all those appointments with therapists…

But now it was Jess' turn.

_She had to be strong. For both of them._

* * *

Paralyzed and constantly jumping from thought to thought, unable to keep a decent sentence going in her head, Jessica had to keep forcing herself to stay on one topic at a time. She chose Sam- always Sam, always. She held her hand when she woke up screaming at night because she could still feel it dragging her away, her body on the verge of collapsing, her screams getting caught in her throat and tears almost choking her. Sam talked to her for hours, at all odd hours of the night and didn't judge her when she told her that she wished it  _had_  killed her. Sam doesn't judge her.. even if she is weak and useless and  _Sam was better off without her anyway._

Her eyes constantly stared at her, though drowsy and unable to really stare at her before she had slowly started nodding off every time she had done this. Her light smiles at her never seemed to be enough, not for Jessica at least. She wished she had the energy to tell her thank you more often, but her throat felt raw and she could never find the strength to actually talk that much anymore. All she wanted to do was sleep, be near Sam, and.. that was it really.

She didn't have any desires to do much anymore- as days went on, she regretted living and hated being considered a "survivor". (She didn't survive at all.. she died back there, she died when she fell in the cave, when she saw those fucked up things.. she hasn't come back. No, no- she was still trapped in the mountains, her soul was cursed and she had come back just a broken skeleton- a cocoon-  _she wasn't real, she was just there.)_

Every day, when the nurses hand her the medication she has to take - and there's so much and she can't name them all - she swallows them and only grows more detached from the world around her. Her mind feels foggy, like someone erased the majority of her abilities to think and contemplate what the fuck is happening but left this little shiver of it just to make her feel stupid and worthless because of it. She feels so tired, so tired and annoyed of feeling like this- like what Sam tells her- that she's depressed. Even if she doesn't think she is…

Occasionally, she'll think of Mike.. and his smile, when he came for her, when Sam risked her life to protect him..  _and h-how he died._ She missed his touch, the way he tried to prank her- the way he kissed her cheek and tongue and told her how beautiful and strong she was even if she really wasn't.

In her dreams, she sees them. It's before the whole thing went down, and they're all so happy. She and Mike are holding each other again. Josh and.. Sam- they're being suggestive about them all, and it's the cutest thing, but it becomes even more heartbreaking when all she can remember of him anymore is him having a breakdown- so fucked up, and out of reality. Everyone is happy.. together… alive.

* * *

She's alive. Sam knows she doesn't want to be; know that it's been eating away at Jess from the inside, practically devouring her with thoughts of guilt, of sorrow, of desperation. Sam doesn't want to admit that it might have gotten to her too; seeing what was in those goddamn mines, the wendigo coming through the house in the dark, Josh screaming when he was half out of his mind from grief… what was it that had made him lose it first?

Had she lost it too?

Jess screamed a lot; she'd wake up to it, those agonizing howls leaving the younger girl's mouth that pleaded for help, for  _Mike, Sam, Emily,_  when there was absolutely nothing that could be done. They were flashbacks- Sam knew that much already, could see how they ate away at Jess until she was little more than a sobbing mess…

It was nights like those when she'd slip out of bed, cross the room and slide onto the edge of the hospital gurney behind Jess, wrap arms around the other girl and run a hand through her hair with words like, "It's alright. Jess, I'm here. It's alright. They're not real. Just focus on me. You're real. They aren't…"

Sometimes all Jessica would do was stare, eyes flitting about the room in a state of half-horror as if she never truly believed she was awake; maybe she wasn't. Hell, maybe Sam wasn't. Maybe the entire thing- as fucked up as it was- had been a figment of her imagination, her grief at losing Hannah, same as Josh's. Or maybe it was far too real to be put into words; maybe Jess was far too breakable for her to leave anymore.

The nurses wouldn't help her. When Sam pushed the call button, it had taken a few minutes of her snapping, "I'm fine. I said I'm  _fine._ It's Jess.  _Help Jess."_  as she'd tried to shove them away from her, make them focus on the younger blonde girl. Jess always seemed so tired; those blue eyes that had sparkled with joy at one point seemed practically lifeless now. It was all so surreal. She'd lost Jess too... even if she'd survived.

Sam was used to dealing with sticky situations on her own; it was something she'd always been good at. She was just more capable than most people- she'd seen that in Mike, too. Something that Jess had been clinging to with him that she now saw in Sam, something  _dependable_ and  _real_ that she thought could help her. And hell, Sam wanted to help her- more than she had words for.

Jess was too fragile for her own good; if the mountain and the wendigo and the deaths had broken Sam, they'd  _shattered_ Jessica. And Sam wasn't sure she was repairable; wasn't sure if the incident had destroyed anything that was left of her or if it had simply pushed it down so far it couldn't be seen. She wasn't sure if Jess could be saved, or if she wanted someone to save her, but… Sam wasn't about to let another Josh come out of all this. She wasn't going to just… let it all slide, put her faith in someone like that, try and believe what they said when they so clearly were unstable…

Jess wasn't going to end up like Josh.

* * *

Nightmares are all she's having anymore after Jessica learned that Sam is going to be discharged. Everyone leaves her- Mike, Josh, Ashley, Em, Matt-  _and now her._ Sam, her best friend, her protector.. it's not fair. What did she do wrong that resulted in her having to be alone?  _All she wanted was for things to get back to what they were before._

In her dreams, she's watching them all die- all her friends, brutally killed and tortured into dying.

The first person she saw in the nightmare was Josh, screaming that  _he doesn't have to listen to you._  Curling up into little balls, completely unaware of what was going in. She's screaming for him to get up, to wake up.. slapping him, trying to pull him away to get to safety.. He's gone as soon as he says, "you let me die, Jess- you could've helped me- you left me alone with him!", being pulled into the darkness- and all she could hear was his screams. She wasn't even there for his death- but she still blames herself. He didn't deserve it. No.. he was ill, off whatever medication he was on, and.. he- he just wanted to get back at them for his sister's death.. It wasn't his fault.. (It was hers' wasn't it? She was the one who made up the idea to prank his little sister..)

Then Mike- oh fuck,  _Mike_. He's frozen in place, eyeing three of those terrifying monsters- the wendigos. He doesn't even notice her, he just stands perfectly still, skin pale and bloody. Involuntarily, Jessica hides behind one of the pillars, completely believing that she's back there in the mountains. Just like Josh's death.. she wasn't there- so she doesn't understand why the fuck she was even there. It wasn't fair- her mind made up this horrible, disgusting, painful way for him to die- being slammed into the pillar. All she can do is scream, and cry- waking up as soon as it drops him like a child drops their least favourite doll. The only reason why she wakes up is because Sam is shaking her awake, holding her- she was screaming his name, begging for him not to move.

All of them.. they all pass through his mind. Chris' head torn off and thrown like a ball, Ashley's eye gouged out, Emily getting shot by Mike.. She keeps dreaming of them dying, and she's so terrified of sleeping anymore. Her doctors don't listen to her, instead, they up her sleeping medication and the nurses sedate her when she tried to force them away from her with it. It's not fair.. no one listens to her anymore. No one but Sam.

Last night, after she learned that Sam will be leaving in a few days, her nightmares forced her to stay in there. She's impaled by Hannah as a wendigo, burned alive, crushed to death… there are so many deaths, and she's watching them all. Hopeless, worthless- she can't even help her best friend.

* * *

Sam wasn't sure when everything had changed- whether it was at dawn that day or if it's now, listening to Jessica's screams, her cries for help, the way her name- all of their names- leave her lips in the night, almost like pleas that made her want to cry, want to curse herself and beat her fists against the wall and scream that it should've never happened, that she shouldn't have trusted Josh, that she should've known better than…

She wouldn't have.

Before that night, before their entire lives changed, before those fucking monsters and Josh and hell, even Hannah and Beth, had shattered everything, they'd been close. She didn't know when it had changed; sometime between the year before and that night, and now here she was, with Jessica screaming, tossing and turning from a nightmare she had no control over and… Sam couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

Not anymore.

She's pulling Jess into her arms, trying to calm the girl's shaking as long, blonde eyelashes flutter and she's opening them, looking up and gasping for air and  _thrashing,_ and Sam's grabbing her and pulling Jessica closer and turning the girl on her side so they can meet eyes and Jess can stutter out a "S-Sam?" that's far too weak to be her voice, far too cracked and  _terrified…_

"It's me," Sam says, brushing Jess's hair out of her eyes and blinking a few times to try and keep the younger girl in her sights. "Hey, Jess. It's me. You're alright. It was- it was just a dream. Shh." She's almost relieved when Jess seems to settle back against the thin mattress, tugging the blankets up so they can cover her shoulders- she'd lost so much weight in the aftermath that it's almost scary. Her shoulders weren't defined anymore, but her collarbone was too prominent; her cheekbones were more hollow than they'd been before, too much for her own good…

Sam ruffles her hair, giving her a soft smile. "You really should be eating more, Jess. I know it's difficult… and the sleep isn't helping." She shifted so she was on her side, looking Jess in the eye with as much of a smile as she should muster- enough to be reassuring. "Do you want me to stay? I can… we can just kinda talk. I know what you've been dreaming about. You keep calling out for Mike…" Sam trailed off with a sigh. "I dream about Josh too…"

It's too much for her to put into words- so she leaves it at that, pulling Jess closer until she can bury the other girl's face in her shoulder and fist hands into the fabric of her shirt and just hold her, taking in her unsteady breathing and the sudden wetness on her cheeks.

"It's going to be okay, Jess…" she says, softly. But she doesn't know if it's a promise- she doesn't know if it's going to be okay, because with everything they'd seen, felt, experienced… how could anything be okay?

They just needed each other.

"I see them, Samantha," Jessica says after several long moments of complete silence. "Ash, Josh, Hannah, Mike.. everyone. They're constantly screaming at me, telling me how I failed them, how I killed them.. that it's all my fault. I think they're right.."

She hasn't been taking her pills as she should. When they have her swallow them, she'll force herself to throw them up later in private when Sam goes for therapy and pretends that they haven't noticed. Josh tells her that they don't work, they only make her see them more. Jess believes him.

Mike's not there though. He won't appear to her, not clearly. She'll see traces of him, hiding behind the others, his face sunken and dead. But he won't let himself come closer to her, even if she screams and cries for him to. Jess wonders if he's punishing her for something- but she doesn't know what and that only makes her feel worse. It's not fair, nothing seems to ever be fair for her anymore.

"I wish I joined them, Sam. I-I wish someone else joined you.. I don't deserve to be here- not when everyone did so much stuff to live and all I did was drag them behind. You deserve to be here with Josh- he-he and you deserve to be alive, to be together. I'm so sorry I didn't do anything to protect him more.. I should've stayed behind and let Mike go warn you guys.."

She clings to her chest, telling tears fall down her face and stain Sam's shirt. "I'm.. I'm so useless compared to you all."

She's almost angry at herself- words forsaking her just when she needs them the most, as Jess's hands curl into the fabric of her hoodie and her tears fall against the skin of Sam's neck, of her shirt. Because Jess… Jess deserved to be here as much as any of them. Jess was… she was alive. It didn't matter if she thought she should be or not- she  _was,_ and she and Sam were together, and that was what mattered right now.

The only thing that mattered.

Sam tilts the other girl's head up, brushing tears away from puffy eyes with her thumbs as she gives Jessica another smile. "Hey. Jess." She lets out a soft breath, watching as it hits the Jess's cheeks, causing her to almost pull away, though her hands still clung to Sam as tightly as ever. "Jess, look at me. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if you think you're useless, if you think you don't deserve to be here- you are. You're here, and you're with me. And I'm not going to let  _anything_ happen to you."

She doesn't know what finally gives her the incentive- Jess's shaking hands, or the tears staining her cheeks, or the way she was staring at her with such fear and pain and hopefulness all mixed together at once that it was almost impossible not to… to  _feel._ She's not sure what makes her push forward and, very lightly, press her lips against Jessica's, but it's enough to count, enough to mean something, enough that she can pull back and see Jess's eyes just a little brighter than they were before as Sam runs fingers over her cheek lightly.

"Jess… I'm glad you're here with me. I can't lose you."

* * *

It's a little while later and Jessica isn't able to see any of her previous friends anymore. Including Sam, who isn't allowed to visit her anymore because she's been transported to rehab and her parents think that Sam visiting her will only make her remember the trauma they endured. They didn't understand that Sam is the only reason why she wants to heal anymore and she's the only one who really understands why she feels like this.

When she's all alone though, in her dreams, sometimes they visit her and this terrifies her.

"She doesn't really want you as her friend," Hannah whispers into her ear, her nails, rotten and filthy, digging into her shoulders. Her breathe felt so cold, causing her to shiver whenever she does this.

"They lied, Jessica- they think you don't deserve to live either," Emily taunts her from the other side of the room, a gunshot wound in the middle of her forehead. "Sam doesn't care about you anymore."

"You're lying- you're dead and you're lying." Jessica shouts, forcing herself onto the ground and covers her head with her arms. She can feel herself crying, thinking about the same exact scenario that Josh went through- and she only feels worse because of it. "Leave me alone- I-I'm sorry, please, leave me alone."

"You killed us, Jess," Hannah twists her arm away from her head until she's sharing the same breath as Hannah. Her heart feels like it's about to explode in the most traumatic way possible and all she can do is silently beg for her to let go. "You didn't even try to save us- all you did was cry and scream. All you did was try to get fucked by Michael and then you passed out until the last moment. You don't deserve to be here, it was all stupid luck."

"I-I tried! I tried to save Josh- he.. he was completely out of it before I could.. before I could do anything… Mi..Mike, h-he.." she was screaming now, louder than she really thought she could scream before. "I-it killed him.. before I could do anything… I-I didn't know what to.. to do. I-I loved him.. they took him away from me."

Jessica rips her arm away, falling on her back and staring at their black eyes. "Y-you're not real.. I-I don't have to listen to you."

They laugh- their  _laugh_. It shook her deep into her soul, like someone had taken out any trace of humanity or kindness and replaced it with something pure evil. "We're very real, Jessica."

* * *

"They're not real." Sam doesn't know how long she's been sitting there, watching Jessica as she shook on her bed, entirely too terrified of something that wasn't even real; and she doesn't know how long it takes before she's slipping to sit down beside her, pull the other girl's head into her lap and whisper to her, "You're real. I'm real. They're dead."

Jessica was dead too; as much as Sam hated to think it. But even then, she was a stiff reminded of reality; the only reminder, with her head buried in Sam's side and her shaking hands as she trembled and shielded her face and refused to open her eyes.

She doesn't know how long it takes before Jess finally looks up at her, tears flowing over her too-pallid cheeks and her hands unable to grasp anything, her lip bitten to the point of bleeding as Sam just sits there with her- for the longest time, she just sits there.

It's been months. It's been months, and all reminders of the Jess she'd been friends with had started to fall apart.

It was exactly like what happened to Josh; first the nightmares, then the hallucinations, then the paranoia. And there was absolutely nothing anyone could do to stop it. There was nothing Sam could do to stop it; she was entirely too helpless, too useless, exactly like Jessica had thought of herself… but she wasn't going to leave.

She wasn't going to leave this time. And she wasn't going to pretend it never happened.

Because sometimes, on good days, she'd see hints of the Jess that she'd shared birthdays with, the Jess who used to read fashion magazines out loud and make fun of Emily and Ash over stupid things, the Jess who she'd kissed in the hospital and loved and made love to until she'd lost her breath after they left. Because even with this… with her onset of insanity, with the way her head seemed to be slowly caving in and the way she seemed to lose her sense of reality every day…

… she was still Jess. And even if she wasn't the Jessica that Sam had started to love, she needed her more than ever.

And Sam wasn't going to leave her. Not again. Not like Josh.


End file.
